


Vagabond

by CopperRose



Series: Fake AH Crew [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Gen, Let's just assume that the team is always gonna be psychopaths in this series, Mention of random killing, Murder, Temporary Character Death, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-24 15:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3774175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperRose/pseuds/CopperRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan was the last to join the Fake AH Crew but before he joined them he was a assassin known as the Vagabond. After killing for so many years, he thought he knew what crazy looked like, then he was given Jack Pattillo as a target. Things just get weirder and weirder from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vagabond

The name Vagabond wasn't exactly a household name just yet but plenty of cops and any gang important enough knew it. Very few knew how to contact him however. The title had been earned for a reason – he was a drifter, never staying in one place for very long unless he had too. If you wanted him to handle a problem for you, you had to be where he was or where he was going or be willing to pay quite a bit for him to come to where you were.

Ryan, the Vagabond, liked things that way. He was not simply a hired gun or a lower link in a savage chain, he was dignified and well mannered and fairly intelligent for a man who made a living killing. Anyone who hired him was made clear of this before any deals were made. And anyone who died by his hand would die spectacularly – fun for him and made a hell of a story for them for where ever they were going in the next life.

He had to make his own fun in a job like this, after all.

Just once, Ryan wanted one of his targets to not be boring. He had a job to do, one he was good at – the fact that he could charge as much as $70,000 a head on some jobs was proof enough that he was an expert – but was it too much to ask that the man or woman he was ordered to “take care of” was at least a little interesting? Begging or crying or screaming, that was all he ever seemed to get from the lot of them, never a challenge to capture them, never a challenge to break them, never a challenge to kill them. It was almost enough to make a man question his career choices.

This time around, he was in an interesting circumstance, however, because the man in front of him was not boring like he was use to. In front of him was a heavyset man with rust colored hair, glasses, and a full beard. His pale blue Hawaiian shirt had made him seem so simple and almost pathetic at first that Ryan wasn't entirely sure he had gotten the right guy. But the picture given to him matched this man and the man's ID read the name give, Jack Pattillo, so Ryan followed the orders given to him.

They had been odd orders, fitting for an odd victim. Not the usual, make it look like an accident or leave no evidence or setting someone else up for the murder or even just delivering the target to someone who would take over from there. He was told to capture this one, take him to the top of a big ass mountain with a stupid name, and to make them suffer in whatever way he saw fit but, most importantly, his captive must live all the way through the torture. After that, he was ordered to kill the man in a flashy way before firing off a flare when he was done.

Ryan liked when he got to play with his targets. He got to learn so much about them, how much they were willing to pay him to spare their lives, what kind of families they had and how much they supposedly meant to each other, what scared them most. It wasn't even the killing that amused him but watching them break mentally.

His favorite was playing like he was absolutely insane and was following the orders of an old bull's skull that he had affectionately named Edgar - stolen from an old gas station some years back after he murdered everyone inside of it. He didn't really know why, it just sort of called to him. The best part was when they insisted that the skull wasn't real and that it wasn't actually talking to him. There was just so much room to do any number of horrible things after that point.

And yet, he had come to realize that this trick would not work on his victim very quickly.

“You're faking.” The heavier man had said dully. This man had looked bored with the whole thing from the word go. The moment he had woken up in the tiny shack on the top of the mountain he was being kept in, he had worn a dull expression. Only bothering to give a quiet “what the fuck?” before looking up at Ryan. It was almost as if he expected this was coming.

He hadn't screamed, hadn't cried, hadn't begged – not even when Ryan pulled out his tools and asked Edgar which he wanted him to use that time. He pretended to play it up, picking up each blade and having a small conversation about each and twice actually reminiscing with himself about the times a few of them were used. Jack only glared but stayed quiet as Ryan took one of the smaller knives he had first and gave him a few deep cuts, aiming to make a design and occult like symbols. He liked to switch up his tactics every time he worked, that way it would be harder to track him. Ryan briefly considered cutting out his eyes, hovering over them and looking very thoughtful as he did but decided against it, he sort of liked the angry looks Jack was giving him. Instead, he looked backed at the skull, pretending to hear a command and pulled back to his tools. He grabbed a pair of large scissors (sharpened meticulously just hours before) and was looking over the man's bare feet, that's when he had finally spoken and said he was faking.

“I know you're sane enough to understand me, you asshole, but the face paint really adds to the look.” He taunted. “Now who the fuck hired you?”

Ryan couldn't hold in the laugh that escaped him, partly because no one had ever been so calm when facing their death and also because no one had ever mentioned the face paint before that point. Which always disappointed him, because he worked so hard on it. The laugh would have made him look even more insane if his captive didn't believe that's what he was aiming for.

“Aw,” it almost sounded as though he were pouting, “playing with Edgar is my favorite act, too.” He could have tried to continue playing up a little more but he had a feeling that Jack was too smart to fall for his tricks. He looked over his shoulder to the skull sitting next to his instruments. “Sorry buddy, I guess a degree in theater doesn't always work out the way you want it to, but you played your role beautifully.”

“Just tell me which one of those assholes put you up to this so that I can fucking murder them when we're done here.” Jack ordered.

Again, Ryan couldn't not laugh. “I apologize but you won't be getting any vengeance. I've been hired to make you suffer and then kill you. You understand.”

“That's alright, I'll be killing them when I come back, along with your ass.” Jack looked so serious and Ryan for once didn't know what to say to a captive. “So how about you just tell me which it was so I don't need to lob a grenade at all of them?”

This man didn't really think this was going to work on him, did he? Ryan was an expert at playing crazy, he wasn't going to fall for this bullshit. But he still smiled. He had never been made so uneasy by one of his targets before. He almost felt like he should reward him.

“No, seriously, you have a name or at least a description of the fucker who hired you?” Jack demanded them. “Tell me and I won't fuck you up too bad when this is all over.”

Ryan put his scissors down, eyeing the man. “I never meet my clients and don't get names. Can't tell you anything. Guess you'll just have to do your worst.”

Jack looked like he was really thinking about something for a moment before asking. “Can you at least tell me if they had a British accent?”

Ryan actually physically recoiled from this question he was so confused. Was he serious? He looked like he was but he had to be trying to mess this him or be trying to buy time. Ryan decided this had all gone on too long. He would find his fun somewhere else, later, when this weird bastard was dead.

“No, not British from what I could tell.” Ryan told him as he began to pack up his supplies. When his tools were all packed up and he had scooped up Edgar, he moved to leave the little building.

“What, you're done already?” Jack huffed. He sounded a mix between annoyed and disappointed. Was this guy a masochist or some shit? “Thought you were suppose to make me _suffer_.”

Shit, maybe he was a masochist. Not Ryan's first, in all honesty.

“Sorry dude, I have a strict rule. Never torture anyone who's into it. It just makes the job weird.” He wasn't lying about that part, in all truth. He actually had to make that rule when one of his targets got an erection in the middle of him pulling off fingernails. Not that he had anything against masochism in general, he just wasn't comfortable torturing man or woman when they were get off on it. At least not when they weren't actually having sex. “So I'm just gonna take my stuff and blow you up. Nothing personal but I've been down this road before and it's weird.”

Jack grumbled something under his breath but Ryan missed it as he stepped out and put his things in his car. After he was a safe distance away, he sat on the hood of his car – a nice front row seat – and pressed his remote detonator and watched the little shack burn. He watched for a solid few seconds before he lifted his flare gun up and shot into the air. His work was done, while he couldn't say Jack had really suffered, he was at least dead.

He was about to climb into his car and get out of this damn city when he heard a sound that gave him a chill. The tiny chime of a cell phone receiving a text. His phone was always turned off when he worked. Looking over to where he had heard the sound come from, there he was – Jack was standing in front of him, holding his phone and looking annoyed yet again.

“'Happy birthday from the Crew?'” He demanded the phone. “... Yeah, alright, this was pretty good. I can't remember the last time I was kidnapped or tortured for that matter. I gotta give them props when I get back into the city.”

Ryan stood there, frozen in horror as he stared at the other man. A thousand questions ran through his mind at once but none came out save for the word, “How?” and that was all that was really needed to gain Jack's attention.

“Oh, right.” He pulled a pistol quickly. Ryan far too confused to even move and at damn near pointblank range, he was shot in the head and died instantly.

~BREAK~

Ryan had never died before that night and when he opened his eyes again, he fell to his knees, vomited, and just knelled there for a long time. He knew he had just died, he knew it, but was it somehow a dream or was some greater being giving him a second chance to do the right thing with his life? When he finally looked up he knew it wasn't a dream, he could see the burning shack and, in fact, he could see Jack maybe twenty feet away from him, unaware Ryan was even there. He climbed into Ryan's car before speeding off with almost everything Ryan owned.

Ryan was pissed. Fuck second chances, he was gonna kill that bastard regardless of whatever higher power had wanted from him.

Jack sped down the mountain, leaving Ryan to walk. The only thing he had was his phone, his flare gun, his knife, and a burning want to kill Jack Pattillo and whoever it was who had set him up to fail! So he walked.

It took him almost two hours following the path to retch the road. He had his thumb out for another thirty minutes at least as he walked down the road but he knew pretty well that no one was going to stop for a man wearing face paint and a leather jacket on a lonely stretch of road. He was convinced he was going to have to throw himself in front of a car before one stopped but then one stopped on it's own.

“You alright?” Ask the man behind the wheel of an old fashion looking car. A green star on it's hood. He had curly ginger hair or maybe it was brown, it had gotten too dark at this point, and a pair of glasses. Some well off hipster looking to do their good deed of the day, Ryan wondered.

“Oh thank God,” Ryan almost cheered, he wasn't sure he could stand walking anymore, “my car was stolen by this crazy prick miles back, it had pretty much everything I owned in it. Money, wallet,” guns, “even Edgar!”

The man gave him a worried look. “Holy shit, is he your kid?!”

Ryan felt a little red in the face at adding his cow skull to the list. Maybe he should stop talking to that thing so much or maybe get a partner. “Uh, no, he's my pet. Tiny thing, real cute but pretty useless for defense.” He lied.

“The fucking dick stole your car _and_ your dog?!” The driver demanded. “Alright, promise not to, like, murder my ass and I'll give you a ride into town and help you find this fuck!”

Ryan could get behind a deal like that.

The driver introduced himself as Michael and Ryan gave him his first name, James. No one called him that anymore other than his mother. And before he knew it, they were well on their way back to the city lights.

“So, what'cha coming to town for?” Michael asked as he drove. “You moving to Los Santos? You said he took everything you owned?”

“Yeah, I'm kind of like a traveling salesman.” Ryan told him, not exactly lying with those words. “But, not really selling any goods, ya know. I pretty much go to where the work is.”

“Don't tell me, you lived in that car that was stolen?” He guessed and the way Ryan looked away answered his question plenty. “Damn, that sucks dude. Fuck, I should call my boys once we're in town and tell them to look out for your ride. Don't worry, whoever this fucker is, they're gonna regret this shit.”

Ryan couldn't lie, he was more than a little impressed by how friendly this guy was. In fact, he was a little disappointed that he knew he would have to kill him when the two of them parted ways. After all, he had seen his face and knew his name. He couldn't let someone like that just wandering around in the world. There was just no telling what he could do with knowledge like that.

Their chatting continued for a while but was eventually interrupted by Michael's phone ringing. He glanced at the number muttered to himself. “Shit, what the fuck does he want?” He gave Ryan a sheepish look. “Ah, sorry. I need to take this.”

Ryan simply nodded and looked away, trying be polite and ignore his conversation. Michael, on the other hand, was apparently not so polite.

“What the fuck do you want?” He hissed into the phone. His face twisted a bit. “Driving... What fucking difference does the car I'm driving make? … Oh my God, yes you asshole, I'm driving AH Mobil. Why the fuck are you asking?”

The conversation had drawn Ryan's eyes back to the driver. Michael had continued to scowl as he drove but something said to him made him pale. He gave Ryan a few small glaces but never let himself linger. What the fuck was going on.

“Don't you fucking do it.” He ordered. Ryan suddenly felt a lot less safe with Michael but there was no way of getting out the car without asking him to stop or very likely dying from jumping out. “Jesus Christ, Gavin, I will fucking end you. I have someone in the car with me! Don't you fu- oh my God, you asshole!”

Everything was wrong. The car wasn't simply going forward anymore, it was also going up! Ryan felt like he was about to vomit again. What is happening?!

He gripped the dashboard and looked over at Michael. The man was fuming and had thrown his hands up in aggravation. He didn't look surprised or even afraid, he just looked pissed off and... annoyed. Was there something wrong with the Los Santos water supply or something that made people annoyed rather than fucking terrified because Ryan was scared for his goddamn life at that moment!

“What is happening!” Ryan demanded, at last verbally.

“Gavin, no!” Michael snapped, ignoring Ryan completely. “What the- no he's not my date, you asshole... I know what I said and I was getting there. I didn't need you to come get me... I don't give a shit if flying is faster, I was getting there! …” Michael glanced at Ryan again before hissing into the phone, trying and failing to be quiet about it. “Gavin, don't you fucking dare drop us. I told you I have someone in the car, I'd rather you not kill his ass.”

Ryan was at his wits end, he hadn't really even thought about what he was doing before the flare gun was pressed against Michael's temple. “What. Is. Going. On.” He demanded. Ryan was a hardened killer but his hands were shaking and his breathing was heavy and for the first time in a long, long time, he was honest afraid for his life.

He just wanted his car and Edgar back so that he could leave this fucking place. He'd change his ways, he'd stop killing, he'd visit home and get a normal job. He just wanted out of this town and away from this madness!

Michael looked between the flare gun and Ryan, his jaw adjusted and he looked like he was thinking something over. How did he _still_ look annoyed?! “On second though, Gavin, I'm gonna need you to drop us. Maybe try throwing us into the mountain?”

Ryan stared at the man in front of him. He couldn't even bring himself to pull the trigger, he was just too horrified. And then, just as was commanded, the car went flying and hit the side of the mountain. For the second time in Ryan's life, he dead.

And then he came to again and clung for dear life to the nearest thing to him, Michael. Clinging and wheezing and on the verge of tears, he held on.

“What's happening?” Ryan whimpered before flat out fainting in front of the man.

~BREAK~

The sound of screaming and gun shots woke Ryan from a haze. For the briefest of moments he thought he was waking up in his car after a strange nightmare, that he would be able to look to his right and see Edgar in his passenger set and that he could get back to his life. But then he tried to move his arms and realized that the were tied behind his back and that his legs were tied together as well, there was a gag in his mouth, and he was being hauled over someone's shoulder.

Reality apparently had a sense of humor when it came to irony.

He was being carried through a hallway and he could see the body of a woman laying on the ground as the person carrying him passed her. She was the one shot, no question, right in the gut from close range and was holding her stomach looking around desperately for help. Ryan gave her a muffled sound, trying to order her to run, hoping she could save herself and, in turn, him. She gave him a feeble nod, as though she understood what he was trying to say, and slowly crawled away.

Ryan lost sight of her as he was brought into an apartment.

“Look what we found!” A voice with a clear British accent chimed.

The sound of an annoyed groan was audible.

“Did you shitheads seriously bring a dead body to a birthday party?” The voice demanded and Ryan's blood ran cold from just how indifferent he sounded. Who or what were these people? “You're cleaning up after yourself when you're done! The same goes for that gun shot I heard from out there.”

“Fuck yeah!” Another voice cheered. “We can play real life Operation. I'll get the scalpels!”

Ryan felt sick.

“Ray, you are one twisted fuck. You know that?” The first voice laughed.

“Nah,” insisted the Brit, “this is better than a dead body. He alive and li-”

“Even better for Operation!”

“Shut the fuck up, Ray!” That voice, Ryan recalled it belonging to Michael. Shit, he hadn't expected him to be a lunatic!

“He's like us.” The British man finally got to say. He almost whispered it but he sounded excited.

“Why the fuck didn't you say so?” Yet another man's voice demanded. This one was oddly familiar. “Put 'im down you asses. What's he even tied up for?”

And just like that, Ryan was plopped down in a chair with five pairs of eyes trained on him. Two of those pairs of eyes, he had already seen that day. Sitting just a across from him was Jack Pattillo, now wearing a half decent suit rather than the Hawaiian shirt. On site of him, Jack belted out laughing, the other two strangers did so as well.

Ryan suddenly felt very small compared to these people.

“What the fuck is with the face paint?” One of the men sporting a dark mustache cackled at the sight of him. “You idiot take him to the carnival before here?”

Michael laughed along with him but shook his head. “That's how I found him. He was hitchhiking – I guess some asshole stole his ride.”

“That was me! This was the guy you assholes hired to torture me!” Jack cheered and they all, collectively lost their shit laughing.

Of all the circumstances Ryan had ever been in, this was the most fucked and he literally killed people for a living. Shaking and nearly hyperventilating, he was sure he was going to pass out again and they were going to tear his body apart while he was blacked out. The youngest of the group, a Latino boy it seemed, took note of just how terrified he was before any of the others caught it.

“Aw, dude, you don't even know, do you?” He asked, looking almost sorry for Ryan. But his voice was also most definitely the one who suggested they play Operation with his body, both dead and alive. He got up and sat beside him, pulling the gag out of Ryan's mouth and giving him a pat on the back that was far too friendly for someone who had just made such a morbid suggestion.

Ryan looked at of them, what the fuck was he even suppose to say to all of them? This was so fuck up! “I...” his throat felt dry and his head hurt worse than it ever had before, “I just... want my car... I will leave and never come back, if that's what you people want.”

The man with the mustache scoffed. “Leave? Do you really not know how valuable you are? We'd never ask you to leave!”

“I might have.” Jack laughed a bit. “But that was back when I didn't realize putting a bullet in your head was useless.”

Ryan stared at the man, trying to breath normal and trying desperately not to ask the question in the back of his mind. His attempt was to no avail. “I don't understand, how _are_ you alive? How am _I_ even alive? I was thrown into a mountain!”

“What?” Three people in the room demanded and then looked at the lanky British man.

“Gavin, what the fuck did you do?” The mustached man asked very seriously.

“Micool told me to.” He insisted in an indignant tone.

“It's true, I did but to be fair, _James_ here pulled a gun on me.” Michael jabbed a finger in his direction and shrugged.

With a stern look, the words, “Alright, I'm Geoff Ramsey and I'd like to offer you a job,” were spoken.

Ryan gawked. “Are you... out of your mind?! I don't even know what's happening and you want me take a job from you? The last job I had got me killed, _twice!_ Whoever you want dead, you can kill them yourself!”

Geoff belted out more laughter. “No, dude, hear me out and meet my Crew. All of them are just like you and I. None us-”

“Me,” Ryan told him.

“... What?” Geoff's brow furrowed a bit.

“It- ah, it's you and me, not I.” He corrected him. “It's a pet-peeve of mine, I just-”

“Oh, fucking _got'em_!” Ray cheered.

“Oh great, you're a fucking nerd too.” Geoff grumbled and rolled his eyes. “Hey, I've got an idea, how about you shut the fuck up and listen to what I've got to say?”

The room was full of snickers and Ryan bit his tongue.

“No one in this room stays dead for very long.” Geoff told him then. “An experience I'm guessing you've encountered already but I can always use more men like that to join my crew. I'm inviting you to be one of us.”

Ryan was silent and gave them all an uncomfortable stare. He couldn't remember the last time he had worked with another person. When was the last time he had talked to someone, other than phone calls home to his mother, that he didn't plan to kill? The last time he had felt like he belonged to something? He was drawing a blank.

More importantly, what happened if he said no?

Almost as though he could read his mind, Jack pulled out a pair of keys and tossed them into Ryan's lap. “You don't have to say yes. You can have your car and your stuff back. It's parked right outside on the street. We're not gonna make you join us. That doesn't inspire loyalty. But if you do, you'll have a lot more than a crummy van and I guarantee you'll make a lot more than what these idiots were promising you for my death.”

“Which we're totally gonna pay you... now that we know you aren't dead.” Geoff added.

Ryan stared down at the keys. He gave a deep sigh. “May I have some time to think about this?”

“As much time as you need.” Geoff assumed him. “Michael, would you?”

For a moment he was worried he was about to be knocked out or murdered again but then he felt the ropes holding his hands cut and then Michael moved to his legs. Before he really knew what was happening, he was handed a business card and was being walked to the door.

Geoff gave him a smile and a firm pat on the back. “We look forward to hearing from you.” And then he was shut out of the apartment entirely.

He almost walked away, right then and there and never came back, almost made good on his promise to use this second chance to be a good person but then he saw blood on the floor in hall and realized how fucking much he wanted to kill something. The woman had desperately crawled her way into an apartment, assumable her own considering the fact that no one else was in it with her. She couldn't stand but was trying so very hard to retch a phone on her counter top.

Ryan shut the door behind him and rushed over to her. He pushed finger to his lips to hush her and she nodded once again.

“Where are your towels or bed sheets?” He whispered. “We need to stop the bleeding fast.”

She pointed and he rushed to a small closet filled with just what he need. He ripped a sheet to pieces before helping her into makeshift bandages, thank goodness he still had his knife. She was in the middle thanking him when her gagged her and then tied her hands and feet. She tried to scream and a struggle but there was no use to it.

After tying her to a stool very firmly attached to the ground, he smiled at her. “You have no idea what kind of day I've been having. I have died, had my car stolen, died again, been kidnapped, and then offered a fucking job. I thought I was gonna lose my mind but now you're gonna help me through the rest of it. First things first, I have a friend I want you to meet and then I should probably clean up the mess you left in the hallway. Wouldn't want anyone interrupting us.”

He actually went to cleaned up the blood first only to see Gavin and Michael dealing with the mess themselves. They both looked surprised to see him still in the building. They stared at each other awkwardly for a just a second before Ryan jabbed a finger back into the apartment.

“I got this, just don't let anyone in while I'm gone.” He told them and they shrugged but nodded.

He was gone for only a few minute, grabbing a his tools and happily reuniting with Edgar. He had promised the bull some real blood shed, after all. Finally, he was back in the room, the woman was weeping and giving muffled pleas to freedom.

Ryan hushed her and held out Edgar, which he had brought in holding and lovingly stroking as though he were a beloved pet. “I'd like you to meet my good friend Edgar.” He told her. “He wants your skin and, well, I've never been able to tell him no _before_. So we should get started.”

~BREAK~

It was 1AM and the Fake AH Crew were still partying from the night before. It was only the five of them and it was admittedly mostly them playing video games and threatening bodily harm to one another but it was still perfect, as far as they were concerned.

When a knock came to the door, they were all surprised. They weren't being _that_ loud, were they? Geoff answered it and was genuinely taken aback to see Ryan standing there, covered in blood, holding a cow skull and grinning like a serial killer.

“One condition.” Ryan said very seriously.

Geoff looked at his boys and them back at Ryan. “Shot?”

“When someone needs torturing, I get to bring Edgar.”

Geoff eyed the skull and then Ryan. “You are one creepy motherfucker.” He told him in a deadpan tone. “And you're gonna be a hell of an addition to our team. Now come in from the hall before someone sees and bring _Edgar_ with you. We've got booze, junk food, and Halo running.”

Ryan did as he was told, never losing his smile as he did. The room was full of cheers when they saw that he had actually come back. They all properly introduced themselves and in a few days it felt like they'd all be fast friends. Several years later, Ryan would swear that was the night that he had truly lost his mind.

He had no regrets.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm not gonna lie, I had way too much fun writing this and I'm not entirely sure why. There's just something amazing about writing complete psychopaths who neither have nor need self preservation instincts.
> 
> This may be the first (and possibly only) piece of work I'm genuinely proud of. Hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed spilling from my twisted mind.
> 
> As a side note, I have no idea when Jack's birthday is but I needed a reason for why Ryan was hired and it's sort of meant to show the unbelievable apathy the Fake AH Crew has developed over the years, to the point that Ryan's employment was meant to be seen as a thoughtful gift to Jack.
> 
> Another side note, should this be rate higher or is M fine? I just want to be sure.
> 
> Finally, I apologize for typos. If you see any, I'd really appreciate you pointing it out so I can fix them.


End file.
